


Look Like Me

by ChessPargeter



Category: The Love Interest - Cale Dietrich
Genre: Body Image, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/ChessPargeter
Summary: Caden is having trouble with his appearance.





	Look Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I read this book in a little over a day because I literally could not put it down. It wasn't perfect (the dialogue and pacing needed work) but the story was so intriguing that it kept me riveted. I loved it. I looked online for fanfics and found one, which was great, but I decided it needed more. Plus I wanted to explore Caden's possible body image problems pre-epilogue. I mean, the boy got so many things about him changed for someone else's benefit. He's gonna have issues. Anyway, enjoy! :)

I look in the mirror far more than I should.

I grew up looking in mirrors, always knowing exactly what I looked like. I wasn’t perfect but I was okay. Now, I remind myself more and more of a doll everyday. With all my imperfections shaved or cut or ripped off. Too perfect, not real enough to be a person.

I’m standing in my boxers in the bathroom of our home, Dyl and mine. We’ve been here for six months. Six months free of the LIC. But ever since then these feelings have only grown. I lean over the sink, narrowing my unnaturally blue eyes. They're supposed to be pretty, but now I find them unsettling. They don't look real. I pull at my long-ish hair. Golden blond, changed from flat mossy brown. It’s not like I was super attached to my previous colour. But it was still another thing about me they decided wasn’t good enough. I trace over my perfectly straight nose and strong jaw. Both look like they were taken off a factory line, completely manufactured. Even my skin is permanently flawless now. A perfect farm boy tan, no body hair, no mole on my hip. I still remember how self conscious that thing made me feel. Now I sort of miss it.

It’s getting harder to remember what I used to look like. Back when I was 412, before I was Caden. And as much as I don't like my perfect appearance, I’m still not sure how much I want to remember how looked when I was a prisoner. I don't know which one would hurt less.

“Caden! I’m home!”

Dyl’s voice carries from the front door. Usually when I do this, I stop the second Dyl gets back. I put on a smile and let myself forget all these feelings. It’s easy to happy around him. He makes me forget all my insecurities. But right now, I can’t move. I’m too fixated on my reflection. My hands grip the sink so hard my knuckles go white. I can’t move. My muscles refuse to work. I’m just...stuck.

“Caden? Babe, where are-”

I can see him my peripheral, standing in the doorway. He just watches me for a bit. I’m still frozen. Just watching the perfect man in the mirror break down.

Dyl slowly moves to stand behind me. I’m still taller, but crouched like this, he looms over me. I see the concern in his face. Cautiously, he places both hands on my bare waist. I don’t push him away, so wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. He’s warm and familiar. The feeling of his body pressed to mine finally makes me let go. I let out a shaky sob. Tears roll down my cheek. Dyl holds me tighter. He pushes his nose into the nape of my neck.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” I choke out. “I-I look like how they made me. I’m still theirs.”

“No you’re not. You beat the crap out of them and escaped. We both did.”

“But every time I look in the mirror...” I look up. My eyes are red and puffy, tear streaks down my face. But it’s still _their_ face. “Every time I look, I’m reminded that I’m just a piece of meat they changed for their liking. Nothing can fix that, Dyl. I don't know what I'm supposed to look like.”

He moves to my side and turns my head to face him. Dyl looks beautiful, as always. He’s made his appearance more his own now, keeping his short black hair plain instead of fashionably messy and shaving his scruffy beard. He even likes to wear fake glasses sometimes to soften his unnaturally sharp cheekbones. It all makes him look younger, more normal, really. And he’s certainly happier. But nothing I’ve done to my appearance has relieved these feelings.

“What do you want to do?” he says.

I furrow my brow. “Huh?”

“What do you want to look like? Screw supposed to. You can choose now.”

I chew on my lip, leaning my head down. A piece of blond hair falls in front of my face. I pinch it between my fingers, rolling it slightly.

“I can’t change everything,” I whisper. “But I can change this.”

Dyl nods. “Yeah, you can.” He tugs my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

We stand in the hair aisle of the drug store. The amount of choices are terrifying. Everything from jet black to platinum blonde. Dyl and I stand in front of it. My foot taps nervously. Dyl holds my hand, fingers woven together.

“Anything look good to you?” he says.

I shrug. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I can’t pick, babe. It has to be something _you_ decide.”

I squeeze his hand once. “Yeah, I know.”

There’s just so many choices. I’ve never had so much choice before. For years everything was decided for me. What I did, what I said, how I looked. But now I’m free. I can choose. But I’m presented with so many options and I can’t pick. Oh the irony.

I scan over the boxes, all covered with smiling women who seem overly pleased with their hair colour. There’s one that looks close to my old hair. But I don't think I want that. As much as part of me misses how I looked, if I go back to mossy brown, it may hurt even more. It’ll be a constant reminder of my time in the LIC, waiting to be picked and readjusted to Craike’s liking. On top of that, I'll know that no matter what I do now, I can only reverse so much of what they did.

I step forward, tugging Dyl with me. Slowly, I pick up one box, then go down the aisle and pluck another one before I can think about it too much. I hold them up in front of Dyl.

“These two,” I say, voice still a bit shaky.

He smiles, all open and soft. “Alright then.”

* * *

 

“How long is this gonna take?” I whine.

Dyl rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted two colours. So quit bitching.”

I humph and cross my arms like a defiant child. He shakes his head, smirking slightly. (Asshole. I love him.) My heads itchy, but I can’t scratch it through the shower cap. I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, waiting for both colours to take hold well. Dyl sits on the sink while I’m on the toilet. I tap my finger nervously. What if this doesn’t work? It’s not like Dyl or I have ever done this before. And we’re not exactly good at following instructions.

“Alright, I think you’re done,” Dyl says, looking at his watch. “Time to rinse it out.”

I step into the shower and turn the knob. Lukewarm water crashes over my head. Both colours pool at my feet. I stand there until it turns clear. I take a deep breath, then step out, looking at myself in the mirror. My breath hitches. The face looking back at me still feels a bit wrong, a bit too perfect for a real person. But I’m still smiling, because at least my hair looks just how I want. It’s what I chose. Not changed by someone else or awaiting to be changed. For the first time in a long time, the person I’m looking at feels closer to who I really am.

Dyl hugs my waist, pressing his lips to my neck. I can feel him smiling against my skin.

“You look awesome,” he mumbles.

I giggle, leaning into him. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

It’s my turn to open at the library. I’m just putting the last misplaced book on the shelf, door swings open my Harriet walks in. She’s the other student who works the same shift as me. Strangely enough, she’s become my friend. Never thought I’d have any of those.

“Hey Caden,” she says sweetly. I see the realization cross her face, eyes widen and mouth drop. “Holy shit, your hair!”

I grin. I’m very proud of my creation. My chin length hair is now warm dark brown, not flat and mossy like in the LIC. I’ve always liked this colour on others and I’m very glad it looks good on me. But in stark contrast to the dark brunette, there’s one cotton candy pink streak down the front left side. It’s an odd combination of plain and natural mixed with weird and vibrant. I love it, because it’s the result of my choice. I decided how I look.

“Like it?” I say.

“Um, yeah! Looks fucking amazing. Did you do it all yourself?”

“Nah. My boyfriend helped a lot. He’s a saint.”

“Well, you two did an amazing job. I’m impressed. It’s so...” She gestures wildly around my head. “Unique. Like you.”

I smile ever wider. It has the effect I hoped it would. I don’t look like 412, a prisoner awaiting a life, or Caden Walker, a supposedly free man trapped in an assigned role. I look like who I want to be.

I feel like I’m my own person. And it’s the best feeling in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write some other stuff cause this new fandom needs it. Also let's be honest, Caden is a total dork and would love to have pink hair. He'd look just like Nicki Minaj! Plus deferred teenage rebellion. Anywho, hope you liked this! :D


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